


In Mourning

by BettyBourbon



Series: The Black Shadow Chronicles [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Drabbles, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, King Alistair, Love Confessions, Reunions, Zevran is a drama queen, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyBourbon/pseuds/BettyBourbon
Summary: When Aurelia Cousland dies battling the Crows in Antiva, Zevran escapes to Kirkwall hoping to follow closely behind her. What he doesn't realize is his love is very much alive and tracking him down. Cue help from Champion and the gang as well as King Alistair.





	1. Cruel to the End

_Alistair,_

_She’s gone._

_I have left for the City of Chains. Do not seek me out. I shall finish what we have started and hope to follow her within the year._

_Fair thee well, my friend._

_Zevran_

* * *

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. 

Panic flooded through him. 

“No,” he whispered, desperately. He set her down on the stones in the back alley as gently as he could, silently cursing the darkness that was protecting them from the army of Crows they had so foolhardily thought they could take on in one go. His hands shook as he searched her pack for anything that might help – a salve, a potion. Anything. 

“Zevran.” Her voice was soft, but resigned. He did not stop his searching to look at her until her hand gently rested on his arm and she said again, “Zev.”

His hazel eyes met her soft grey ones and his heart felt as if it was shattering like glass. 

“My love,” she whispered as she reached her hand up to stroke his tattooed cheek. “You must go.”

“No,” he said sternly. “I will not leave you.”

His hand grasped hers tightly. She gripped back but her grasp was weak. He could see the color draining from her face as her blood began to stain the flagstones. His mouth dried and he could taste the bile welling in the back of his throat. He had not bothered to count the arrows that were piercing her body. One, three. She was fading and fast, but the idea of walking away made him seethe with an anger he hadn’t known in many years. 

“If you don’t go,” her voice was surprisingly strong as she held his gaze. She had the same unwavering look she always had before she was about to make a crazy decision. “We will both die. And I will never forgive you if you don’t live.”

“Aurelia—”

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed. “Of course.”

“Do you love me?”

It felt like she’d knocked the wind out of him. Why must she always do this? She knew that of all the things to say to him to throw him off his equilibrium, all she had to do was bring up that one emotion. It immediately brought him back to the gates of Denerim all those years ago. 

Before he could stop himself, he whispered, “Cruel to the end.”

Her smile showed teeth covered in blood and his stomach twisted violently but he smiled back shakily. 

“I love you, Zevran,” she said as she slipped a ring from her finger and pressed it into his palm. She closed his fingers around it and pushed his hands away. “Now, go.”

He pressed his free hand to her cheek and kissed her softly, making an attempt to memorize the feel of her lips, but the taste of blood made him grimace. Closing his eyes tightly, he pulled away and stood. Casting her one last glance, he hesitated at the entrance to the ally. 

“There he is!” he heard someone yell in Antivan from a few dozen yards down the street. 

“Go,” he saw her mouth. 

Without another thought, he yelled, “Here I am!”

Jumping into the street and full view of the guard, he made a show of drawing his blades and running towards the intruders. When he had the majority distracted far enough away from the alley, he set off a smoke bomb. 

And then he was gone.


	2. Even When We Are Apart

_Your Gracious Majesty,_

_I’m bloody stuck in Antiva. It’s a long story._

_In short, I got badly wounded in an epic standoff with those birdy fellows and here I am. I sent Zevran off, thinking I’d end up dead but luckily some very nice ladies of the night swooped in at the last minute and here I am. However, still stuck. And still Zevran-less._

_You haven’t heard from him, have you? If you have, let me know where’s he’s gotten off to. I can’t follow him quite yet, so be a dear and drop me a line at the Painted Dove in Antiva City._

_Yours truly and with significantly less blood,_

_A. C._

* * *

She couldn’t remember the last time she hurt so much from such a simple task. Just writing a letter made her entire body scream for her bed. Her head was spinning in circles and the lights from the candles felt like they were burning holes in her retinas. 

Once she’d traded the piece of velum for a tray of food with the servant boy in the hall, she laid down wearily on her bed, staring at her ceiling and not able to eat a bite. 

Her soul felt as weary as her body. 

While her note to Alistair tried to remain upbeat and casual, her whole being itched with worry. 

Where was he? 

As she let out a long sigh and shut her eyes, she tried to imagine that he was on a ship, already on his way to Denerim. Perhaps he too had already sent word to Alistair. Their friend would write back in short order. She would be flooded with relief and meet up with him in the capital as soon as she was healed. She could already feel his searing kiss as she met him at the gates of the palace, could already feel his hands in her hair as he roughly pulled her closer. 

As hard as she tried to summon a day dream of their happy reunion, her mind’s eye would not vanquish the look on his face as she’d sent him away. His brown eyes were filled with pain. She knew it had been cruel of her to do, but the thought of watching him die by her side had be worse. 

With a groan, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and rested her arm against the open window beside her bed. Staring out the window, she let the smells of leather and sea air flood her sense. 

“Zevran,” she said to the dark city. “Where are you?”

* * *

She was smiling at him. 

It was that languid smile she always had after he made love to her. Her pupils were dilated as she blinked slowly. His fingers stroked her flushed cheeks, pushing her thick dark hair away from her face so he could better study her. Her swollen lips, her pale, milky skin, her delicate nose that was now slightly crooked from the gauntlet of a dark spawn. 

Her eyes shut as he tangled his hand into her shoulder length mane. It had grown longer since their days in Ferelden. She had had a woman in the market district in Antiva take shears to give her bangs. It suited her, but as Zevran studied her, he thought – not for the first nor last time – that he would covet her whether she had hair to her waist or was bald as a newborn. 

His eyes roamed down her body, his hand following along. He skimmed over her neck and collar bones. He cupped her breasts in his hands. When he flicked his thumb over her nipple, her sharp exhale made his member twitch. Moving his hand back to her cheek, he pressed his mouth to hers once more, molding his lips to hers. He could feel her smiling into their kiss, but suddenly he tasted it. 

Blood. 

He tore his face from hers and looked down at her. Blood trickled from her mouth. Her face was bruised and covered with grime. 

“Zevran,” she spoke in a faded whisper and he could see her teeth were stained red. 

With a jolt and a gasp, he sat upright. 

She was gone. 

The sounds of seagulls and bright sunlight assaulted his senses. The smell of human waste mixed with sea air made his nose sting. As he rubbed sleep from his eyes, he forced himself to stand. Blinking to adjust to the bright light of day, he looked up through the deck of the ship to see they’d finally reached their destination. The large stone chains welcomed them, but there was no relief to be felt. 

He did not stay long in the capital, but instead made his way outside the city, staying near the coastline until he found a cave tucked away outside a Dalish camp. 

“Is it alright if I stay here for a while?” Zevran asked a young elf woman he met outside the camp, foraging for plants. 

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see why not, though I’m not sure why you’d want to. Spiders and other creatures of mischief are swarming that place.”

“I’m sure I’ll be right at home then,” he said cheerfully as he could muster. “Say, if anyone comes looking for me, just let them know where I am, yes?”

She gave him a confused look, but he simply nodded and made his way up the hill to the cave.

That night as he sat by the fire he’d made for himself, he twisted the ring around his finger, the ones she’d pressed into his palm before he’d fled. The diamonds glittered in the light of the fire. The near perfect diamonds she’d collected in their time apart while at Vigil’s Keep and made into two rings. Now they both sat side by side on his finger and a sick feeling overtook him as a memory overtook him. 

_”This is too fine,” he’d scolded her as she presented him with his ring. Of course, his eyes had lit up at the beautiful gold and sparkling diamonds, but he knew he could not accept it. “Why did you go through all this trouble?”_

_“Because, I kept stumbling upon all these beautiful gem stones while wandering around with the wardens,” she explained as she twisted the rings in the candle light. “In the dark roads or under the keep. We were supposed to be focusing on finding the Architect or keeping the Teryn together and all I could think about was how you’d like them.”_

_She turned onto her stomach in their bed so her chest was pressed to his and held the ring in front of his face. “I couldn’t wait to give them to you. It made me realize how lucky I am to have you. That even when we are apart, you’re never really far from my thoughts.”_

_The sweetness of her voice and her disarming, genuine smile made his heart ache. Without any more objection, he held his hand out for her and she beamed as she slipped the ring onto his finger._

As the memory fade, he clutched the ring once more and remembered her words. “Even when we are apart,” he spoke aloud only to the spiders and other creatures of the cave.


	3. Regret

_Maker’s Balls,_

_Sometimes I really think my life would be so much simpler had I made normal friends. You know, the kind that hung out at the pub, played cards, celebrated weddings, had babies – didn’t take on assassins guilds and get stranded in foreign cities or I don’t know make their very best friends leaders of important nations then turn around and ask for help finding their assassin lovers!_

_But I digress._

_I am relieved to hear you live, dear co-Warden, for your beloved believes otherwise._

_Zevran did in fact write me to inform me of your untimely demise and that he has made off to Kirkwall to avenge your death and follow you to the Maker’s side. I would write him to correct him of his folly, however, he didn’t leave a return address._

_I’d get out of the house of ill repute and hop a boat quick as you can if I were you before that man does something silly. Like throw himself at a group of assassins._

_Again._

_Do be careful not to actually die._

_Alistair_

_P.S. I’m off to Kirkwall myself in two months’ time. I’d go sooner if I could. Should you need assistance, don’t hesitate to ask._

* * *

“Does this not seem suspect to you?” Fenris asked, his voice a little too nonchalant considering they only had the blood of at least a dozen spiders and had narrowly avoided being killed by spikes that came up from the ground out of nowhere. 

“Isn’t it a little late in the game to be asking that, elf?” Varric shot back, equally casual as he wiped some unknown slime from Bianca. “Everything you lot have done this far since arriving in Kirkwall has been suspect.”

“All I mean is why would an assassin want to be found?”

“Fenris isn’t wrong to be concerned,” Isabela piped in. “I’ve dealt with these crows before and you don’t generally find them unless they want you to.”

“Just how well do you _know_ these crows, huh?” Anders shot back. 

Isabela opened her mouth to respond with a dirty comment, but Mathilda hushed them all with her hand. 

“If you all don’t stop, we’re going to be killed by said assassin. He probably can hear us coming a—”

“Mile away? Well, yes. You all aren’t exactly the stealthy type, no?”

Mathilda cursed under her breath as a blonde elf stepped out from the corner of the cave. She gripped her staff, but the assassin walked so surely toward her with so much swagger that she hesitated long enough for him to get within a few feet. 

“You must be the Champion of Kirkwall,” he said, bowing to her slightly. “Let me guess, Nuncio sent you to capture a dangerous murderer from Antiva. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows.”

“Zevran? Well, I’ll be damned!” Isabela said before Mathilda could form two words together. 

“Isabella!” The elf looked genuinely happy to see her companion. “If it isn’t my favorite pirate wench! The Champion of Kirkwall, eh? You have moved up in the world.” He gave Isabela a knowing wink and Mathilda could hear Fenris growl from behind her. 

“She’s not mine, love,” Isabela corrected and put her hand on her hip, jutting out her ass suggestively. “Which leaves me free for act two now that you’ve reappeared.”

“Ah, that is tempting,” Zevran said, his cheerful mask slipping as his face turned dark. “But I am in mourning, my dear. Maybe another time.” 

Mathilda did not believe his last line for a second. She did not have the chance to question it as yet another one of her companions interrupted her. 

“Wait..you helped save Ferelden from the blight with the Warden!”

Even Zevran could not get a word in as Isabella incredulously snapped, “The _Warden!_ You fell for the Warden?”

“Aurelia is dead?” Anders said in shock. 

Poor Zevran looked stricken as he stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, trying to speak, but Anders and Isabela wouldn’t quiet down long enough to let him get a word in edge wise. 

“Enough!”

Silence finally fell as Mathilda took a deep breath. Zevran appeared to do the same. Once Mathilda finished glaring at her companions and turned her eyes back to the assassin, he had restored his façade of jovial bemusement. 

“So what shall it be, Champion? Will you bring me in?”

* * *

“The Hero of Ferelden. Well, I’ll be damned,” Isabela huffed as they hiked down the coast towards the Antivan encampment. “I thought she was one of those fancy Ferelden nobles.”

“She was,” Anders said, still crest fallen. He’d been unusually quiet since learning of the death of his friend and former commander. “But she wasn’t like you’d think. I can’t believe she’s dead.”

“It’d make a hell of a story,” Varric mumbled. “The elven assassin and the noble lady. Best seller I bet.”

“I still just can’t believe it,” Isabela threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

“Neither can I,” Anders moped.

“No, you don’t know Zevran!” Isabela insisted. “The man was raised in a whore house! I’ve never met anyone so committed to a life style of philandering and murder!”

“Perhaps he really loved her,” Mathilda said wistfully. She couldn’t help but remember the crestfallen look on Zevran’s face when the warden was mentioned. Isabela scoffed beside her. “People do change for love.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Fenris clench and unclench his fists.

* * *

Zevran let out a sigh as he took a seat on a rock not far from Fenris. 

The other elf paid him not an ounce of attention and kept cleaning his obscenely large blade. Twisting his mouth to one side, he struggled to think of something to engage the man in conversation. If not, he worried the dwarf would corner him once more to interrogate him about his experience in the blight. 

As Zevran stared at his reluctant companion, he saw Fenris’ green eyes occasionally glance up, tracking the black haired mage across the carnage of the encampment as she scoured through chests and bodies with Isabela. Zevran could not help but laugh and green eyes turned angrily to him. 

“What?”

“You do a poor job of hiding the fact that you are in love, friend,” Zevran said with a small shrug as he began to clean his own blades. 

“I am not your friend,” Fenris growled and turned his eyes back to his blade. 

“Ah, so you do not deny it.”

Zevran could remember himself doing the same thing after skirmishes with Aurelia. He would find a perch with a good vantage point, put himself to work cleaning off the blood, but always make sure to keep the beautiful warden within eye shot. “Let me guess, you feel uneasy when she is not within your line of vision, no?”

There was no response, but Fenris did grind his teeth and set his jaw. 

Across the camp, Mathilda appeared to have found something especially exciting and held it up in the air to survey it better. It caught the light and shined in Fenris’ eyes. 

_”You pick up every piece of treasure we come across, but not this?”_

The memory of his harsh words made his stomach sink. 

“Your Warden,” Fenris said slowly, never lifting his eyes off his blade. Zevran turned to him, surprised he was even speaking to him. “Did you ever feel as though you did not deserve her?”

Letting out a sad sigh, Zevran nodded and said candidly, “Every day.”

He sheathed his blades and stood. “Do not let that stop you, my friend,” Zevran went on before Fenris could correct him once more. “Take it from me, you will regret the time you wasted letting your feelings of inferiority hold you back from the woman you desire most.”

Fenris opened his mouth to retort, but Mathilda was approaching them from across the camp. With a wink and a smile, Zevran turned to bid his goodbyes.


	4. Pesky Titles

_King Nug Licker,_

_You really need to let go of your resentment. Don’t pretend you don’t love being king and that the people don’t adore you – most of the time. And you have gotten your revenge with that ludicrous nickname you gave me after Denerim. I can’t go anywhere – and I mean ANYWHERE – without being called the Hero of Ferelden. I don’t believe anyone knows my real name anymore._

_I’ve made it to Kirkwall. The only trail I’ve found was leading to a cave outside a Dalish encampment but he was gone by the time I got there. Some woman who’s called the “Champion of Kirkwall” got there first._

_Interesting woman. She keeps strange companions. Anders – I told you about him, yes? The apostate who joined the wardens at Vigil’s Keep? – is with her as is Isabela – that pirate from the Pearl all those years ago._

_You were right when you said he thought me dead. He apparently told them all he was in mourning. I thought Anders was going to shite himself when he saw me._

_I just hope I can find him soon before he does something stupid._

_Wish me luck,_

_A. C._

* * *

“You honestly don’t know who the Champion of Kirkwall is?” 

This was the third person to ask her that today. The first being the woman in the elven encampment who’d told her that this supposed Champion had already beaten her to the cave Zevran was hiding out in. 

Sighing audibly, Aurelia wiped her hand down the side of her face in frustration. 

“Look, if I knew who she was, I would have found her already and I wouldn’t be asking you now would I?” 

Her normally calm and friendly demeanor had been nowhere to be seen these past few days. She was still exhausted, recovering from her injuries, and on top of that the trip from Antiva had tired her out far more than it should have. She was barely sleeping with all the tossing and turning she did on the rare chance she found a place to sleep. She hadn’t dared go to a reputable inn in case someone recognized her and then all bets were off she’d make it out of the city quietly. 

The merchant eyed her suspiciously but finally relented. 

“She’s got a house in High Town but they aren’t going to let you in,” he spat, looking her up and down, taking in her dark, warn armor. She had a black hood that shaded most of her face. The two blades on her back looked menacing. “But she’s got friends who stay at the Hanged Man in Low Town. You may be able to get one of them to introduce you.”

“Thanks,” she said, flipping him a silver for his trouble.

* * *

She was at the bar, chatting with Isabela and Merrill. Her face lit up every time one of them said something amusing. He wished he were close enough to hear her voice, but from this distance he could still hear the cacophony of her laughter whenever Isabela said something especially scandalous. 

“Broody…Broody!”

“Hm?” Fenris turned back to the dwarf 

Varric gave him a knowing look and motioned to the table. “Your turn.”

“I fold,” Fenris said simply and set his cards face down. He suspected he may have had the cards to win this round but he was too preoccupied. 

Anders and Donnic both groaned. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” Anders grumbled and set off toward the bar. 

The assassin’s words kept replaying in his mind. It had been several days now since their encounter with the Crow, but Fenris kept mulling over the man’s advice. 

_You will regret the time you wasted._

It had been three years now since he had walked out of Mathilda’s house. He had stayed at her side like a shadow, but he had never discussed or explained what had happened between them, how he truly felt. Every day he had felt regret. He thought of the grief in the other elf’s eyes and wondered how much more regret he would feel if something happened to her. If he were to lose her as that assassin lost the woman he loved…

“Excuse me?”

Fenris’ eyes snapped up. He had been so lost in thought and the bar so loud that he had not heard the stranger approach their table. She was tall. Human or elf, he could not tell as her head was covered with a black hood. Her leather armor was black. The two blades on her back were well cared for and expensive. Immediately on edge, Fenris sat up straight, hand reaching for his concealed dagger. His eyes immediately moved to the bar. His other companions were distracted but Mathilda caught his gaze at once, eyebrows raising as she too reached for her knife and moved toward their table. 

“I’m looking for a woman who calls herself the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“I don’t call myself that,” Mathilda said as she stopped on the other end of the table. Fenris immediately stood to act as her shield. “But here I am. And you are…?”

“Shame how those pesky titles always seem to stick, isn’t it?” the woman responded. She pushed her hood back far enough to reveal her face to the table without the entire bar seeing. “I was hoping we may have a word in private.”

Fenris gripped his knife harder. Before Mathilda could respond, Anders had returned to the table. The mug he was holding fell to the ground with a clatter. 

“Maker, you’re alive!” he hissed, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. 

The woman’s eyes widened but she smiled brightly at the familiar face. “What? Disappointed? Of course, I’m alive! What in Andraste’s name are you doing here?”

“Wait a minute,” Mathilda said, her eyes widening slightly. “You’re…the Hero of Ferelden!”

The woman groaned and glanced around the bar. People had started to take notice of the excitement happening at the Champion’s table and she was obviously nervous. “Well, I have an actual name…”

“Maker’s sweet tits,” Isabela spat as she came over to see what the commotion was about. “The Hero of Ferelden is alive?”

“Okay, maybe we should move this somewhere less public, shall we?” Varric suggested, standing up and opening his arms to start ushering the group upstairs. He turned to Donnic and asked quietly, “Keep the riff raff downstairs, won’t you?”

When they were all settled up in Varric’s room with the door closed, the woman finally removed her hood and stared at them all with a confused look, but before she could get a word in edge wise, Aveline said, slightly awestruck, “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting the Hero of Ferelden.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Anders said, still looking as though he was dreaming. 

“Maybe she has a twin?” Merrill offered. 

“First of all,” the woman said loudly, speaking over the group. Fenris was impressed. She obviously had had practice at quelling loud objections from large groups. It reminded him of Hawke as she stood and held her hand to silence them all. “My name is Aurelia Cousland, not the Hero of Ferelden. Secondly, I’m obviously not dead. No, I do not have a twin. Does anyone care to inform me why apparently the whole of Thedas thinks I’m dead?”

“Zevran told us you had—” 

Aurelia didn’t let Anders finish his sentence. “You’ve seen him? The woman at the Dalish camp said you got there before me. Where is he?”

“Last we saw him, we were at a camp on the Wounded Coast. He helped us deal with the man – Nuncio – who was looking for him and he was gone.”

With a sigh, Aurelia took a heavy seat in a chair next to Varric. 

“You don’t have any idea where it is he may have gone?”

Mathilda shook her head. 

“Why is it he thinks you’re dead?” Isabela asked.

Running her hands through her brown her, frustration obvious on her face, Aurelia responded lightly, “Well, last he saw me I was stuck through with arrows bleeding out in an alley.”

There was silence for a few moments before Fenris said accusingly, “And he abandoned you there.”

Fire lit her grey eyes as she met his gaze. “I forced him to leave. I’m certain you would have done the same were you in my shoes,“ she shot back, pointedly looking at Mathilda. 

Fenris gripped his fingers into a ball. He chanced a look at Mathilda who was reddening slightly and casting her gaze downwards. Most of their companions were suppressing grins. Except Merrill who looked confused and Anders who looked annoyed. Were they that obvious, Fenris wondered? First the assassin, now this Hero of Ferelden. How was it they could read his emotions so easily? 

Taking a deep breath, Aurelia stood. “Thank you, but I think I’ve got the information I need—”

“We can help you find him,” Mathilda offered quickly. Her face got that sickeningly sweet, zealous expression that drove Fenris crazy and made him want to shout ‘you can’t save the world!’ But it was too late. 

“Yes, stay for a drink! You’re already here!” Varric encouraged. 

“I’m sure there must be some rumor we can track down,” Aveline offered. 

Aurelia stared at them all with a mix of confusion and suspicion. “You’re really willing to…help?”

“You don’t get named Champion of Kirkwall for keeping your nose out of other people’s business,” Fenris growled. Aurelia met his gaze again, but this time she laughed.


	5. Allies

_O Hero, My Hero!_

_You’re one to talk about strange companions. Need I remind you, you’re the one who shacked up with the man who was paid to assassinate you by the man who murdered your family? Oh, and then went on to work with said murderer’s son? Kettle? Black?_

_Also, how have you not heard of the Champion of Kirkwall? You really must have been living under a rock. Did those whores not get any of the latest news? I’m actually hoping to meet with her when I arrive there, so put in a good word for me, please!_

_I’m certain you will find Zev. He’s made it this far without being killed, his luck can’t run out yet. Don’t lose hope and let me know as soon as he shows his face._

_Just…don’t give me all the gory details like you did about your last reunion. I still have vomit stains in my carpet._

_Keep your chin up,_

_Alistair_

* * *

“May I ask…how old are you?” 

Since meeting the Hero of Ferelden – Aurelia, she scolded herself – Mathilda had been amazed at the other woman’s youthfulness. Having escaped the Blight herself, she had followed the stories of the Wardens closely during her first year in Kirkwall. The legendary Hero was known for her prowess and unstoppable nature. Yet, as Mathilda studied her now as they wandered through the markets of Low Town, she could not help but think again that Aurelia was not what she had expected. 

The famous warden was tall. She could have been described as willowy were it not for the ample muscles that obviously came from regular use of the weapons strapped to her back and her travels across Thedas. She was strikingly pretty, almost annoyingly so were it not for her disarming smile and easy going, light humor. She seemed so…normal? If Mathilda didn’t know any better, she would have assumed the woman was just another mercenary wandering the streets of Low Town. 

It was her youthfulness that through her off the most. For all her accomplishments and the legends surrounding her, Mathilda could not find one wrinkle or gray hair on her head. How could the savior of Thedas be under thirty?

“Twenty-five,” the woman responded lightly. 

Mathilda could not help but gape. That had been the age she was when she had fled Lothering. At twenty, Mathilda had been more concerned with impressing the boy next door or making sure Carver didn’t run off with whatever mercenary group came through town. It felt like an entire lifetime ago. 

It was Aveline who responded first. “So that means you were only _twenty_ at Ostegar?” The Guard Captain sounded positively dumb founded. 

“Nineteen actually.” Aurelia seemed unperturbed as she fingered a pair of linen gloves before her eyes wondered over to a selection of perfumes. “I celebrated my birthday a week later. Memorable, yes, but not the happiest of birthdays, let me tell you.”

“You’re telling me,” Varric said, sounding both awestruck and suspicious. “That two Grey Wardens, barely out of puberty, not only ended the blight and killed an Archdemon but also defeated Loghain and took control of all Ferelden in the process?”

“You’re leaving out the parts about where we saved the Circle, Redcliffe, quelled turmoil in Orzammar, found the Urn of Sacred Ashes, and managed to not die,” Aurelia added, counting off the deeds on her fingers. She turned and smiled brightly at Varric who was shaking his head at her, mystified. 

“Not bad for two kids,” he whistled. 

“Well, we had help.”

* * *

The filth and degradation of this city didn’t faze him. The amazing disparity between the wealth of High Town and extreme poverty of the undercity did not pull at his sense of injustice. No, what did force him out of his haze of grief, even briefly, was the overwhelming number of Ferelden refugees. 

He’d first noticed it in High Town as he slowly walked through the market, careful to keep along with crowds or stick to the shadows. A yelp had caught his attention and he’d looked up just in time to see a wealthy Free Marcher kicking a boy of no more then ten. 

“You Ferelden scum! You have no right to be in this city let alone ask for my coin! Be gone with you!” 

Zevran waited until the man made the wrong turn into a stairwell. It was a fatal mistake, for it only took a matter of seconds for Zevran to sink his poison tipped blade into the man’s kidney and disappear back into the shadows. 

The constant assault of the familiar Ferelden accent served only as a distraction from his current mission of waiting for the Crows to follow him to Kirkwall and die taking out as many as possible. It did nothing to quell his thoughts of her, though he suspected that there was no remedy for that affliction. 

Her voice was forever in his ear, as it had been since the day they had met. 

_”Why isn’t anyone helping these people?”_

_“Did we fail them?”_

_“Zevran, we must do something.”_

It was her voice that had led him to Dark Town. Having let his veil of stealth slip, he’d engaged in conversation with enough of the refugees to learn that a group of slavers had put up shop in the undercity and were actively trading in refugees. As he stood, watching them load their ship, he counted targets. 

_Twenty,_ he sighed, as her voice once more sounded in his mind. _Well, at least if I die you’ll no longer make me feel guilty for standing by and doing nothing._

* * *

“Let me get this straight, so it’s actually true you were accompanied by the Witch of the Wilds, a former Chantry sister, a Golem, and a Crow who you only met while he was trying to assassinate you?”

“Throw in a Circle Mage and the husband of a Paragon and you’ve got it down,” Aurelia corrected Varric. Mathilda was slightly surprised he wasn’t taking notes. She let out a loud yawn she could not longer stifle. It was getting late. Aveline and Merrill had both left to be replaced by Isabela and Fenris, but Varric had refused to leave. He was far too busy conducting an interview for what Mathilda suspected would be his next book. “And you can’t forget Sten. We got him out of a cage in Lothering.”

“Wait,” Mathilda interrupted, her interest peaked once more. “The Qunari? I always thought they’d executed him. You took him with you?”

Aurelia looked slightly apologetic, almost as though sshe had forgotten briefly that Mathilda had been from Lothering. “Well, we needed all the help we could get. He became rather a good friend, the dear fellow. Even if he is a little…hostile.” 

“You claim a Qunari as a friend?” Fenris snorted, not believing it for a second. 

Aurelia started to retort, but a voice cut her off. 

“Hail! Hawke!”

Mathilda turned to see Tomwise waving at her from his stall. She waved and smiled as she approached. “Hello, Tom. How goes it?”

“Ah, same old, same old. Nice job with those slavers down by sewers, but you may want to circle back. Word has it they’ve just about doubled their numbers.” 

Mathilda blinked at him. She wracked her brain trying to remember, had they taken out any slavers’ dens in Darktown recently? She looked at Fenris, eyebrows arched in question. He shrugged and shook his head, looking just as confused as she was, if not a little disappointed this handy work was not their own. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tom.”

It was Tomwise’s turn to look perplexed. “Really? I didn’t think there was anyone else capable or willing enough in this town to help Ferelden refugees. Looks like you’ve got an ally. Anyways, if you feel like a fight, I’m sure you’ll find one if you head down that way.”

Ally. The word rang in Mathilda’s ear and she glanced at Aurelia who shifting from foot to foot, obviously itching to get going in the direction the merchant had mentioned. 

“Thanks, Tom,” Mathilda said, giving him a smile. “I’ll see you later.” She waved as she walked away towards the sewers, coming into step with Aurelia. “First solid lead all day,” she offered the other woman with a hopeful smile. 

“Maybe,” Aurelia said. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth the entire way through Darktown. 

They came to a halt on the landing overlooking the dock. A crowd was gathered beneath them and Fenris’ markings flared, but Mathilda held up her hand as they stopped to listen. She groaned internally. They really should stick a permanent guard on this spot, she thought to herself. Never failed if you were looking for a load of trouble, this is where you’d go looking for it. 

“—We can’t be too careful!” one man was saying. 

“It was only one elf. How much of a threat could he be?”

“What if he’s got friends, eh? Maverick’s worried he’s found the hideout in High Town. May be he’s looking to get at our gold—”

“Aurelia,” Mathilda hissed as she saw the Warden draw her weapons and take a step onto a crate directly at the edge of the landing. “What are you doing?” 

The woman did not bother to respond, but Fenris immediately drew his sword and Varric loaded Bianca. Cursing under her breath, Mathilda pulled her staff from her back, but none of them were quick enough. All they could do was watch, mouth’s falling open in a mixture of horror and awe as Aurelia catapulted herself from the crate. None of them could react as she arched through the sky, her body flipping with surprising grace. By the time the lead slaver even noticed her coming towards him through the air, her blade was already in his shoulder. Her landing made a sickening crunch and immediately caused all of the men below to draw weapons. 

Before Mathilda could even shoot off a rain of flames, Aurelia – still on her back – had pierced her second sword through the leg of another man and kicked yet another several feet from her before lunging back to her feet in one quick swoop. 

“Maker’s Breath,” Mathilda breathed, running down the steps as she shot off spells, her companions not far behind her. 

“I think I’m in love!” Isabela shouted as she jumped onto the back of a slaver.


	6. The Abyss

_His Magnificent Majesty o’ Ferelden,_

_Did you intend for that first sentence to make sense? How do you even correspond with dignitaries and other leaders when you can’t even form a coherent line in a letter?_

_I did put in a word with Mathilda Hawke (that is her name by the way – I get the feeling she likes Champion of Kirkwall just as much as I like Hero of Ferelden) for you. Don’t muck it up._

_She’s got this nosey dwarf with her, Varric, who I suspect is writing a book on our exploits from the blight. He’s practically interrogated me the entire length of our acquaintance. Don’t worry. I made sure to leave out all the fun bits about you being a virgin and being scared of spiders._

_Thanks for your support, Al. As much as you complain about your roguish friends in low places, I know you still care. We’ve got a lead that Zevran may be storming a mansion in High Town tonight, so fingers crossed we find him._

_I’ll spare you all the gory reunion details…until we meet in person._

_With any luck, the next letter will be from Zev himself._

_See you soon, my friend!_

_A.C._

* * *

“Who are you writing?” Merrill asked, her eyes obviously curious. It seemed that any moment they were sitting down, the Warden was sending off a letter. Mathilda had seen her send off several in the days since she had known her. 

“This one’s to my brother,” Aurelia said between bites of mystery stew, pointing to an already sealed letter on the table. “And this one,” she motioned with her quill to the one she was finishing. “Is to my friend, Alistair.”

“The King?” Aveline nearly choked. 

Aurelia smiled at her. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“Enough chit chat,” Isabela cut in. “When are you going to tell us how you did that?” She sounded as if she’d been holding in her curiosity all day and she leaned over the table, leering at the Warden as if she were about to pounce. 

Aurelia arched an eyebrow at the pirate. “Write letters?”

“No, that flippy thing you did back there with the slavers! That isn’t exactly something you pick up from a tavern brawl. Who taught you how to do that?”

“My mother.” 

There was silence and then the entire group burst out laughing, even Fenris. 

“C’mon. Be a friend and tell us.”

Aurelia blinked and repeated, “My mother. Honest.”

Scoffing, Isabela leaned back and folded her arms. “What? Was your mother some master assassin?”

“A raider, actually,” Aurelia corrected, turning her attention back to her letter. “She did away with her first Orlesian warship at fifteen.”

“Wait…Cousland…Eleanor Cousland was your mother? As in the Seawolf? As in the ‘Soldier and the Seawolf’?” Isabela looked starstruck. 

“What’s the ‘Soldier and the Seawolf?’” Merrill asked confused.

“Oh, drop him, lady! Drop him!” Isabela began to sing. Fenris groaned and stood up to get more drinks. 

“Who is she dropping?”

* * *

He wasn’t the only one watching the house. 

There was an inordinate number of guards around the square tonight and Zevran was not the only one to take notice. One in particular seemed to be a thorn in his side. Every time he thought he saw an opening to get into the mansion, she’d make herself known and he would curse under his breath. She really needed to work on her stealth abilities. 

The redheaded woman was making him grate his teeth in frustration. He was so close to finishing this. All that laid between himself and the abyss was that one door, but the damned woman would not take his eyes off of it. 

What was her interest in it? Had the guards done anything to this point? What was her purpose in being here other then to postpone his mission?

Grating his teeth, he slowly began to inch towards the door, his eyes shifting between it and her. Another guard stopped to whisper something in the woman’s ear and he saw his chance. Moving as quickly as he could without making much noise, he snuck up the stairs and reached for the door. As he turned the handle, a creak emitted from it that made him curse once more. He turned briefly to see the guard as she stepped forward. 

“Zevran, wait!” he could hear her yell as he disappeared inside the estate, but he hesitated only momentarily to wonder how the woman even knew his name.

* * *

“Hawke!”

Aurelia looked away from the currier she was slipping gold to as a disheveled guard entered the Hanged Man looking out of breath. Hands on her knees, the woman could barely make two words out. Hawke was at her side in an instant, offering a stamina potion. 

“Thank you,” Aurelia said to the currier as she pressed the coins into his hand and turned to join her new companions by the door. 

“Aveline sent me,” the guard huffed between long swallows of the yellow potion. “She said he’s inside. He’s gone…inside.”

Mathilda’s eyes were immediately upon Aurelia’s and without a word, Aurelia lifted her hood and disappeared out the door.

* * *

The main hall was quick work. It was nothing but arches and a flimsy mage who, once his barrier was gone, could offer nothing more troubling than a pathetic bolt that bounced off his armor. 

It was as he moved up the stairs that he encountered more resistance. Larger warriors. Another assassin appeared out of a haze of smoke behind him. 

Still, they did not have him cornered until he reached the landing. 

Zevran turned slowly in a circle, his eyes meeting those behind the masks they wore, their blades and bows pointed at him. 

So, this was it, he thought with no real emotion other than resignation. 

Seven years prior he had left Antiva looking for this moment, praying for death to find him. Instead, he had found his reason for life. 

Her face crossed his mind then. He could see her as if she were standing in front of him. Her grey eyes looking down on him, her expression unreadable. He remembered the flecks of blood that marred her beautiful face. Until that moment he had never met someone so beautiful yet so fierce. 

As the memory of their first meeting faded, a new emotion overtook him. Had he known then what she would come to mean to him, would he have behaved differently? Would he have chosen differently? Had he not asked her to spare him then would she still be alive today? 

Her face came to his mind once more, this time the light from the fire reflecting in her eyes as she looked confused and hurt. 

_”Are you saying you’re in love with me?”_

_“I don’t know. How do you know such a thing?”_

His response had been honest. He had never been certain, even all these years later as she so easily let her feelings for him find words, he struggled to convey to her what it was he felt. He did not even think he was capable of love and she had deserved more. So much more. 

“Zevran!” 

Shutting his eyes, he let out a sigh as he let his blades fall to the ground. Even in his last moments, she would haunt him. Her voice was now clearer than ever. 

“I will be with you soon, my love,” he said softly as he fell to his knees. 

The enemies around him stirred but as seconds passed no blow came. He suddenly heard a wet _thwump_ and with a sigh of annoyance that this was not going as quickly as he had planned, he opened his eyes to see the man in front of him with his sword raised and lunging towards him. However, the dagger in his chest caused him to catch on Zevran’s shoulder as he crashed to the ground. 

Turning to look over his shoulder, Zevran was not certain whether he was seeing an apparition or the real thing until he heard Aurelia shout at him, “You overdramatic, nug licking, piece of halla dung! Will you quit with the melodrama already and get the fuck up!”

She most certainly was alive.


	7. Unsaid Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

_To the worst friend ever,_

_Did you mention to this Varric character that I’m only still a virgin because I’m friends with the two worst wingmen – er people -- in all of Thedas? Honestly, you would think having a Cousland and a Crow among my companions would be helpful but no, instead all they do is jeer and tease and are absolutely no help at all!_

_Meanie._

_By the way, your brother has written to ask me to remind you that if you die before you reach thirty, he won’t pay for the funeral. He seems rather worried about your recent escapades to Kirkwall. I promised I’d check in on you and send you home for a visit forthwith._

_I promised this currier the same, as I think he’s getting rather tired of going back and forth across the sea on a weekly basis. Teagan also reminds me that using Ferelden ships for personal correspondence is not “appropriate.”_

_So last letter from me until I see you both (Maker willing) in a week._

_Don’t die before then!_

_Alistair_

* * *

Her mind was in a panic when she saw him there. His arms were limp at his sides. His face was blank. She could not read the emotion from this distance as she drew her throwing knives from her waist and ran forward. 

“Zevran!” she screamed in desperation. 

If he heard her, he did not seem to acknowledge it. His blades fell to the ground with a clang. He sunk to his knees. She could see his mouth moving, but could not make out the words that he was saying. All of her blood rushed to her head as desperation surged through her. 

No. She couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not after everything. 

They had defeated an archdemon, for fuck’s sake. They had taken on the Crows and won – well, nearly. She would not lose him like this. She couldn’t lose him. The very idea that he would leave this world was what had made her banish him from her side in Antiva in the first place. She could not bare to think of a world in which he did not exist. Not after everything she’d already lost. She refused to lose him, too. 

The man in front of him raised his sword high over his head and Aurelia reacted. Her companions were still several feet behind her, still running to catch up. 

Grief and rage made her yell out again – a wordless battle cry as she flung the dagger as hard as she could until it sunk into the chest of the man threatening to harm so much as a hair on her lover’s head. 

Taking a deep breath, she drew her main weapons and glared up at Zevran as he finally decided to acknowledge her existence. 

“You overdramatic, nug licking, piece of halla dung! Will you quit with the melodrama already and get the fuck up!” she shouted before she could master her emotions. Her words were punctuated as a bolt from Bianca flew past Zevran’s ear and Mathilda shot off a ring of flames. Still, Zevran stared at her in awe. “So help me, Zevran, If you don’t get up, I will murder you myself!” 

That seemed to do it. 

Just as half the enemies descended the stares to block her path to Zevran, he grabbed his blades from the ground and plunged one into the foot of the closest advisory. The other, he quickly used to swipe at the man’s torso. 

A sigh of relief left her as she finally removed her eyes from him to focus on the slaver coming at her. 

“You two are the epitome of romance,” she could hear Varric tease from a few feet behind her, but she couldn’t even come up with a witty response as she focused all her energy into ending her opponent. 

The battle only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like hours to Aurelia as she chopped through one slaver after another, her eyes darting back to Zevran and occasionally meeting his gaze before going back to focus on the task at hand. When finally there was none but a few lonely archers left, Aurelia sheathed her blades, letting her new companions take care of the stragglers. 

Her feet felt heavy as she walked towards Zevran. He sunk his dagger into the neck of his last opponent. Blood sprayed from the wound, but as the man dropped, Zevran seemed to pay it no mind as he stepped over the body and walked towards her. 

His blades fell to the floor once more. 

“Don’t you dare do that to me again,” he hissed dangerously when he was only a few feet from her. 

“I told you to live, you fool. How could you—”

He cut her words off with his mouth. His hands were on either side of her face, pulling her lips down to meet his. Her breath hitched her throat as his familiar warmth and taste overwhelmed her senses. Her hands moved to wrap around him to pull him closer. Relief flooded through her as her hands roamed up his back and down his arms, doing an assessment of any injuries or missing limbs. 

When she pulled back, she could hear him take a shaky breath, but as she opened her eyes, she had difficulty seeing. Suddenly the wetness on her cheeks registered and she realized she was crying. 

“My darling,” he said softly as his thumbs wiped away the tears that now streamed freely down her cheeks. “There would be no point to me remaining in this world if you are no longer at my side.”

* * *

The lovers had all but vanished once the last of the slavers were dealt with. One second they were there, embracing, and the next, they were gone. 

The rest of the team was silent as they made their way across High Town. They stopped outside Hawke’s estate and made their farewells, Aveline and Varric leaving first. Fenris hesitated momentarily. The whole scene had left him shaken and uncomfortable in a way he could not put in words. 

Was it embarrassment for the public display of affection the two so obviously showed for each other? Was it envy for their openness? Jealousy? He shifted on his feet as he stared at the ground before finally turning to go. 

“Fenris.”

He turned back to her. Mathilda looked as torn as he did. Various emotions he could not place flashed across her face. Her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to say something. 

He too wanted to say something. He wished he could pull her into his arms the way Zevran had Aurelia. He wished could look upon her and confess that he too feared most a world without her in it. He wanted to explain to her that was why after all these years he still clung to her side like a sore. Words failed him, however. 

And her too apparently as she finally sighed. 

“Good night.”

* * *

They hadn’t made it out of High Town. Upon entering the Blooming Rose, they sought out the madam and asked for the most private room. She immediately started to argue. 

“Excuse me,” Lusine snipped. “But we are not an inn and how do I even know you two roughians can pay—”

She cut herself off as Aurelia counted out ten sovereigns into her palm. 

It only took a few minutes for their room to be made ready. 

“Take it off,” Aurelia ordered, waving her hand at his armor as she dropped her weapons and pack by the door. Zevran complied immediately, but his hands shook as he fumbled with the straps that held his breastplate and back plate together. His eyes never left her. A part of him was not entirely convinced this wasn’t another dream and that she would not disappear once he awoke. 

She removed her gloves and boots, adding them to the pile by the door before tipping the pitcher of warm water into the basin. She threw a towel over her shoulder and picked the basin up, bringing it over to the floor by the bed. 

“Sit,” she ordered. 

Slipping his armor over his head, he let it hit the floor as his feet carried him obediently to the bed. He sat and she pushed his knees apart so she could kneel between them. Her fingers expertly pushed his shirt up his torso until it was slipping over his head and landing beside his armor. She turned away for a moment to dip the towel into the basin and Zevran reached his hand up to brush her hair back from her shoulder. His fingers trailed up her exposed neck until he could cup her cheek. She leaned into his hand, shutting her eyes for a moment as she purred at the familiar touch. When her eyes opened, he was gifted with that enchanting smile. 

“You’re a mess,” she said softly as she wiped to towel across his face, removing the speckles of blood.

“Well,” he huffed in pretend offense as she moved the cloth down his arms. “I can assure you, you are no Orlesian court lady.”

Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, but her pretend annoyance did not fool him as he could see the corner of her mouth twitching from trying not to grin. She wrung out the cloth and moved her hand to his chest, slowing her hand over his nipples. He inhaled a sharp breath. 

“If you’d prefer, I could go toss an extra few sovereigns at one of those fine specimen downstairs. There was a particularly handsome dwarf you may find more to your—”

He did not let her finish that sentence. His hand tangled in the hair at the base of her neck as his other hand reached down to roughly grip her ass and pull her from the floor. She let out a small yelp of surprise. His mouth found hers once more as her knees settled on either side of his hips on the bed. Zevran felt like a drowning man gasping for breath as he kissed her. Their teeth clashed as each fought for dominance, but Aurelia soon won and sucked his lower lip into her mouth. 

His hand left her hair to join his other on her ass. He gripped her firmly and pulled her hips tight to his own. She groaned into his mouth as he pressed his excitement up into her core. Her hips soon moved of their own accord as she ground down into him. Her lips left his and her head fell back as she sighed. 

“Zevran,” she said, her voice filled with need. 

A flush had started at her cheeks and was traveling down her neck, disappearing into her shirt. Eager to see how far it went, Zevran made quick work of her armor, tossing it aside as he went. He made it all the way to her stays when his hand froze on the laces. 

Directly underneath her right breast, he saw it. It was a faint line now, nothing more, but as he carefully traced the line with his thumb all he could see was the arrow that had pierced the spot the last time he had seen her and the pooling of blood. His eyes roamed over her and his fingers trailed behind. There was another to the left of her belly button, close to her hip. Yet another had left puckered skin above her collar bone. 

“Zev,” she whispered, but he could barely hear her over the blood thrumming in his ears. “My love, look at me.”

She had to place her hand under his chin to get him to tilt his head back far enough for him to meet her gaze. “I’m here.”

He removed her stays and wrapped his arms around her back as he flipped her down onto the bed. His mind was blank with need. Need to assure himself that she was here. Need to join with her. Need to hear her chanting his name like a prayer. His fingers deftly unlaced her leather leggings and he had them off with her small clothes in one quick tug. 

Pushing her legs apart with his knees, he placed his palm over her core and shuttered as he saw her back arch off the mattress. His fingers traced her and he hummed softly as he realized she was already wet. He made sure her eyes were open and on him as he pulled his hand away and brought his fingers to his lips. 

“Please, Zevran,” she whined, pulling at the front of his breeches. Her fingers fumbled at the laces. He quickly pushed them away and undid them himself. He pushed them down far enough to expose his cock. He hovered over her, one hand beside her head holding him up, another positioning himself at her entrance. 

His lips found her ear and he gently nipped at the lobe before whispering, “Tell me what you want.”

“You, Zevran, please,” she whimpered. Her hips were desperately bucking up towards his own, but anytime she got too close, he pulled away. “Please, take me.”

With a contented sigh, he sank into her. This would not be a night for slow love making. He would not make her beg for hours as he forced her to the brink of pleasure again and again. No, he did not have the resolve for that. His need was too strong. 

He pinned her hips to the bed with his own, grinding his pelvic bone into her clit with each firm thrust. He had to pause momentarily as her fingernails grazed down his back. He arched into her and let out a groan before slamming into her at an even more fervent pace. His body sank further down onto her as he claimed her. Her thighs hooked around his hips allowing him to go deeper. Settling his face into the crook of her neck, the feeling of their sweat slicked skin meeting made him whisper Antivan expletives almost as much as the feeling of their hips joining with each thrust. 

“Maker, fuck, oh sweet Maker,” she cried. 

Zevran could tell by the volume of her moans and the way her nails sunk into his shoulders that she was close. When her thighs tightened around him, he pushed himself up on his elbows to look into her face. He wanted to kiss her, but he also wanted to see her come undone. Her eyes were half closed as she stared back up at him, her mouth slightly open as she gasped for breath. 

“That’s it, my sweet,” he purred. He moved a hand down between them to make circles around her clit as he encouraged her on. “Come for me, Lia.”

Her body arched up into his and her hands moved from his back to grip the coverlet beneath them. His name left her mouth over and over, but he only heard it the once. Just seeing her reach ecstasy and feeling her body shake beneath him was enough. He gasped as he exploded into her, his vision going white with release. 

When he finally regained control of his breathing, his head was on her chest, his arms wrapped around her tightly. Her fingers smoothed through his blonde hair as she contentedly hummed, but he could not make out the tune. The sound of her heartbeat in his ear overwhelmed him. 

She had not faded away. Her beautiful face had not become stained with blood. She was real. She was here. He was home. 

He blinked and was shocked to feel moisture coating his eyelashes. He could not recall the last time he had cried it had been so long ago. Long before he had been sold to the Crows. The whores had beat him for showing such weakness. Even after losing her he had not shed a tear. None had welled up in his eyes. He had thought his body incapable of producing them at this point, but here he was, staining the chest of his beloved with such emotion. 

His body wracked in small sobs as he fought for air to control the overwhelming rush of feelings that was taking over him. Self-scrutiny at his own weakness, sudden realization about the extent of his feelings for this woman, a sudden, renewed understanding of their mortality. It was all too much. 

Her hand caressed his cheek as she asked, her voice laced with worry, “Zev, what’s wrong?”

He could not look up at her as he hiccuped softly, “I think—I think I love you.”


	8. How Far West?

_Ah, Alistair,_

_It seems I have you to thank once again for bringing me back to the arms of my dear Warden. The world is surely a less dreary place now that I am back in my rightful place: between her thighs. For there is no set of thighs lovelier nor so soft as darling Lia’s. Especially when she has them wrapped around me as she moans my name. Ah, to be home._

_But I shall be serious for a moment (and risk you dying of shock, I know, I know) and repeat that I am truly thankful, my friend. I cannot hope to repay you for your help in all this. If you have any pesky ministers who need to disappear, do let me know if I can be of service._

_Send word when you reach, Kirkwall. Perhaps these Free Marcher ladies will be more kind then those Ferelden ones, no? Let us find out._

_Your friend,_

_Zevran_

* * *

Aurelia found herself gasping for breath, her chest heaving. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She brushed them away with her fingers, but it did not stop.

“You are insufferable,” Zevran growled as he threw a pillow at her face. He had stood up, his eyes still red from crying, lingering tears still forming droplets on his lashes. “I tell you I love you and you—you laugh!” 

She felt awful. Truly, she did, but knowing that did nothing to stop the giggles forming within her chest even as she struggled to speak. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I know,” she managed to get out between peels of laughter. “But it’s just so—so funny!”

Zevran stood over the bed, his hands on his hips, glowering down at her. “Care to explain how my feelings for you are at all amusing?”

Sucking in a deep breath, she braced herself so she could get out what she wanted to say without succumbing to the humor of the situation once more. “Well,” she took another breath. “I’ve always known you have I just didn’t realize I had to die to get you to admit it. If I’d known, I would have faked my death ages ago.”

The snickering started up again, but Zevran seemed no more appeased. With a loud huff, he laced the front of his breeches and ripped open the door to their room, slamming it shut behind him. 

It took her several minutes to calm down from her fit. When she did, she laid back against the pillows with a sigh. As the minutes continued to pass, a small part of her worried that maybe he’d actually left. She chewed on her bottom lip, considering the possibility, but just as she felt her heart start to flutter with anxiety, the door opened once more. 

He had a bottle of brandy in his hand and his brows were still furrowed. As he shut the door with his foot, he took a long draw from the bottle. He would not make eye contact with her, even as he sat down on the edge of the bed and held out the bottle to her wordlessly. She took it and muffled a quiet “thanks.” He said nothing and instead began to undo his boots. 

“Are you giving me the silent treatment now?” she asked before taking a sip of the brandy. He ignored her again and she took another sip. “Can you at least give me a hint of how long you’re going to be mad at me for?”

Still, no response. 

Groaning in frustration, Aurelia set the bottle down on the table beside the bed. Scooting so she sat behind him, she draped her legs on either side of his and trailed her fingers down his back, following the long lines of his tattoos. She pressed her lips to his shoulder blade and forged a trail up his neck to his ear. 

“I’m sorry that I laughed,” she said softly into his ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin beneath to emphasize her point. “It is nice to finally hear the words from your lips.”

He kicked off his boots and sat back, leaning his weight into her chest. His head hung for a few moments, his hair covering his face like a curtain. She wrapped her arms around his chest and pressed her cheek into his back. Finally, he turned enough so he could peer at her out of the corner of his eye over his shoulder. 

Lacing his hand through hers, he asked sheepishly, “If you knew all this time, why did you not say?”

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered if you didn’t know yourself,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I wanted you to be sure.” 

They were both quiet for a time. His fingers squeezed hers and she trailed her lips along his shoulder blades. His hand left hers and her face peered over his shoulder to watch him as he pulled one of the rings she’d given him off his finger. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t dare speak until he did. Instead she just watched him as he held the ring up to the light, staring at it. 

Finally, he said so softly she could barely hear him, “I think we should get married.”

She nearly choked. “W-what?”

“Married,” he repeated, his words firm. He pulled out from between her legs to stand in front of her, holding the ring out to her. “I want us to be married.”

“Zevran, this is all so…so sudden!”

“Really? Aren’t you the one who took that as a proposal?” he reminded, pushing her hair back and flicking the small gold hoop she wore in her right ear. 

She covered the earing with her hand protectively as she opened her mouth to respond, but a small cough from the doorway sent them both lunging for their weapons. They had been too preoccupied to notice the sound of picks in the lock or maybe they had not even turned the latch to begin with. Regardless, they both cursed as they fumbled for their blades, until they recognized a familiar chuckle. 

“You two really are too predictable for a pair of rogues,” Leliana drawled, leaning against the doorway, her arms folded over her chest as she grinned at them. “What would really throw people off is if you stopped staying in brothels and actually spent money at reputable establishments.”

“Maker’s breath!” Aurelia swore as she pulled Zevran’s shirt over her head. “A knock would have been nice!” She searched fruitlessly for her smalls. 

“Oh? Was I interrupting?” Leliana teased as she entered the room fully and shut the door behind her, actually locking it this time. 

Zevran fished Aurelia’s small clothes off the floor and held them out to her with his forefinger. She grabbed them from him and yanked them on as he stepped forward to give Leliana a hug. 

“What a pleasant surprise! Is everyone we know in Kirkwall? Andraste, who will be left to watch over the rest of Thedas?”

“Alas, I believe ‘tis just us,” she said with a sigh as she pulled away from Zevran to kiss a flustered looking Aurelia on the cheek. “And Alistair? He’s arriving any day now, yes?” 

She took a seat on the bed and Aurelia sat down next to her, resting back on her elbows. Zevran commandeered the bottle of brandy from the bedside table and after offering it to Leliana who refused with a wave of her hand, settled into a chair across the room. 

“Yes,” Aurelia answered. “How long are you here for? It’d be nice to have the old gang back together, even if it’s just a few of us.”

“Unfortunately, not for long. I need to report back to the Divine on the state of things here in Kirkwall, but I heard a few disturbing rumors going around—” she looked pointedly at Zevran who shrugged innocently and took a swing of brandy. “And wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’ll take any excuse to see your shining face, my dear,” Aurelia said brightly, smiling up at her friend.

“I’ve also heard back from the people I sent after that _lead_ you asked me to look into,” Leliana said slowly, her voice taking on a more serious and quieter tone. Aurelia and Zevran both sat up straighter, their eyes at rapt attention. “The Divine sending me here was rather an opportune moment to discuss this with you in person rather than through letter.”

“And?” Zevran prompted impatiently. “Was Morrigan’s gift correct? Is there really a cure?”

Aurelia’s heart beat so rapidly against her chest she thought it might burst right through her skin. Her fingers clenched at the blanket as she waited, breathless for her friend to speak. 

“Possibly,” Leliana said, her eyes apologetic that she did not have more information. “But you would have to go west.”

Zevran let out a resigned sigh. “Exactly how far west?”


	9. Where There's Trouble

_Darling,_

_I wish our visit could have been longer. It was so nice to see you both. Do take care of each other. If you travel through Orlais on your way west, I will not forgive you if you do not at least say hello._

_Also, I did not want to mention it while we were visiting, but I may have eavesdropped on the conversation you were having prior to my entrance. Or shall I say proposal? I do hope you intend to take him up on his offer. The poor fool has taken long enough in asking and it would be so lovely to finally see you in a dress after all these years._

_Let your next letter be a wedding invitation!_

_All my love,_

_Leliana_

_P.S. Remind Alistair he still owes me five sovereigns._

* * *

“Another chapter of Swords and Shields?” Mathilda asked Varric as she took a seat next to him. She glanced up as she sat to see green eyes watching her closely from across the table. 

The rest of their friends were at the bar, either egging Isabela on or cautioning her against breaking her neck, as she climbed onto the top to attempt to do a back flip, daggers drawn. 

“No, I think I’m going to start a new romance,” Varric said as he dipped the quill into ink once more. “About two rogues who travel Thedas. I think it could have some potential.”

Fenris rolled his eyes but Mathilda chuckled. “And what will you call this future best seller?”

“I’m thinking the Black Shadow Chronicles. Nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Let me guess,” Fenris drawled. “It’s not at all based on real life.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?” Mathilda asked, resting her chin on her fist as she watched Isabela with a wistful expression. 

She’d grown rather fond of the Warden in the time they’d spent together. It almost felt like Aurelia had become another companion. As large as their differences were, Mathilda could not help but feel that the two shared much in common. She already missed the rogue’s easy humor and fun tales. More than that, she missed the comradeship of someone else for whom tragedy had forced into a role of leadership. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Varric said honestly. “Some people say you’ll never find her unless she wants to be found. Still, others have said she’s like an Exalted March.”

Fenris and Mathilda raised their eyebrows at him, blinking in confusion. 

“Where there’s trouble, she’s guaranteed to follow.”

Fenris snickered but Mathilda sighed. “She could have at least said goodbye.”

As if on cue, the door to the Hanged Man opened. Isabela, the first to spot the two newcomers from her perch on the bar, opened her arms wide and shouted, “About time you two rejoined the living! Did you run out of positions?”

Zevran threw back his head and laughed as Aurelia grinned at the pirate, making her way to the bar and taking the offered pint. 

“Never,” she scoffed. “We just needed a little refueling.”

“Aw, not here to take me up on that offer from our first meeting?” Isabela jumped down from the bar and slung one arm around each of their shoulders as she led them to Mathilda’s table. 

“As adventurous as my warden is, dear Isabela, she is not inclined to share,” Zevran said, somewhat regretfully. 

“Ah, territorial, eh?” Isabela arched an eyebrow. 

Aurelia shot him a glare as she took a seat beside Mathilda. 

“No,” she said slowly and Mathilda couldn’t help but wonder if she was lying. “I just don’t have a good enough attention span.”

Everyone laughed. More drinks went around and the conversation carried on easily as if the duo hadn’t simply disappeared after their rather dramatic reunion three nights previously. Zevran, Aurelia, and Isabela recounted their first meeting at the Pearl in Denerim six years prior. Anders and Aurelia went on to tell stories of their time at Vigil’s Keep. All the while, Mathilda got the distinct feeling that Varric was keeping close tabs in his head of what notes he would need to write down later in case some important detail should slip his mind. 

Hours passed and before the watch could call out midnight, the duo was on their feet once more, bidding farewell. 

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye for now,” Aurelia said, a small frown tugging at her lips, her brows knitted together. 

“Where will you go from here?” Aveline asked. 

“Well, the night is young and we still have to find a way to break into the Ferelden embassy.”

Zevran’s response was met with silence. Everyone glanced at each other, trying to decide whether or not he was joking or whether it was simply better to not ask. 

Aurelia, realizing that was not the answer they were expecting, back peddled and replied, “Back to Denerim and after that, we shall see.”

They made the rounds of handshakes and hugs. A few feet from her, Mathilda caught some of the words Zevran was saying to Fenris, “So my friend, have you confessed yet?” Her ears perked up, wondering what he was referring to, but she was distracted as she was suddenly pulled into a tight hug. 

“I realized I’m a total ass and have yet to tell you how thankful I am,” Aurelia said as she pulled away. Her hands remained on Mathilda’s arms as she met her gaze and said seriously, her voice lowered, “It is no small favor you did me. I will remember your kindness always. We may be,” she paused for a moment. “We may be _away_ for a time, but should you ever be in need of assistance and I am in reach, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Mathilda smiled and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. 

“After fighting rampaging Qunari and playing mediator to templars and mages,” she said with a small laugh. “Reuniting lost love has been a welcome change.”

Moving her gaze over to Zevran, Aurelia’s expression softened and her smile widened. “It’s strange,” she pondered. “When we met, him and I, I think we both thought of death as a welcome relief.” Mathilda blinked, shocked at the idea that this ever cheerful and rarely serious woman once had nothing to live for. She couldn’t fathom the concept. Aurelia went on, “Yet, in the darkest moment of our lives – and dare I say our time – we found reason to live.”

Her smile never faltered and all Mathilda could do was stare in admiration. Aurelia turned back to the Champion and said in a lower tone, “While we’re on the love topic, my dear. You and that giant sword carrying glowy fellow really should just go at it already. You can cut the tension with a dull blade.”

Mathilda spluttered out a response that was half cough, half embarrassed laugh, but Aurelia just patted her back and grinned at her knowingly. 

“I guarantee you’ll both feel much better when it’s done. It’ll be such a relief.”

* * *

The light from the fire was dim, having burned down to only one log and a pile of coals. The room was warm and comfortable. As Alistair drifted in and out of consciousness, he half wondered if it was worth moving from the so, so cozy chair to the bed. His head felt as heavy as the book that was sprawled upon his chest. It did not feel at all worth it. He let out a long sigh of ease and let his eyes fall shut once more. 

Voices interrupted his rest, however, drifting in and out of his mind like a haze. 

“I told you we should have bought that grappling hook.”

Someone made a small ‘tsk’ noise.

“And carry yet another one of your useless trinkets? You accumulate too much stuff as it is.”

“Useless? Really? Because I think we would have been inside the building by now had we come down from the roof rather then spending an hour scaling this blasted drain pipe.”

“You’re forgetting that to get to the roof you have to _go up_ and to that you have to _climb_.”

Alistair groaned and turned his head to the side. This must have been a dream. He knew those voices. Or at least he thought he did. In his half sleep, it was hard to decipher, but one thing he did know is that the louder they got the more annoying it became. 

“The window’s locked.”

“Let me do it.”

“Why must you always take the fun part? You must have driven Fergus mad as a child.”

“Because, you’re useless at picking locks.”

“ _Well_ , we could just throw your grappling hook through it and a-ha! Problem solved.”

Relenting, Alistair blinked several times. He ran his hand over his eyes to try to wake himself up. The window opened with a click and the voices only became louder still. Resting his face on the palm of his hand, he waited patiently for the side show he knew was coming. 

“Now, who are you calling useless?” Zevran said triumphantly. 

“I still attest the roof would have been quicker!”

“Or,” Alistair drawled, not even bothering to stand from his chair as Aurelia fell forward through the window. “You could have knocked on the front door like a civilized person would.”

“Oh, no,” Zevran said with mock disappointment as he crawled over the sill of the window. “But we were hoping to catch you in a compromising position!”

“Yes, we were hoping to bare witness to the conquering of our great king by some Free Marcher temptress!” Aurelia went on as she stood, flinging her arms wide as she neared him, demanding a hug. 

“I hate you both.”


	10. A Reminder

_Mathilda,_

_I found this ring in Lothering seven years ago now. A bandit, having taken advantage of the ravages of the blight, had it in his possession. I’ve kept it with me all this time, not being able to sell it, especially not after seeing firsthand what happened upon our departure from the village._

_I want you to have it. As a gift of thanks, as a token of friendship, but also as a reminder._

_Our stories are so alike, yours and mine. Alone in this world, without family, save a brother far removed from us. Thrust into turmoil and responsibility we had no choice in, yet surrounded by those who choose to follow us. To love us. Keep them close and cherish them, for that is all the family you will ever truly need. Let them ground you._

_Do not let your past rule you. However, do not forget the person you were before the world decided for you._

_I hope we shall meet again, Champion._

_A.C._

* * *

“You really are the most ridiculous woman I have ever met. Presents. Always with the presents! I have never met a woman who is so obsessed with the giving of presents! Presents for your dog. A present for the abomination who tried to kill you. Here’s another for the fish monger who gave you adequate mackerel. Another for the urchin who gave us direction. Lest we forget one for the barmaid who complimented your hair—”

“You know, contrary to your stubborn belief, the majority of the world actually likes receiving presents, Zevran,” Aurelia said, scowling at him as she waved the wrapped package in his face. “And most people have the common courtesy to be polite when receiving them. Unlike certain jaded, heartless people I know,” she mumbled the last bit as she stopped outside of Hawke’s estate. 

“My sweet, it is just that I feel you give enough to this world with your presence alone,” Zevran back peddled. She eyed him over her shoulder, but before she could respond, the door opened. 

“Hawke Residen—Warden? Is that you? Well, by the Stone!”

Aurelia’s jaw dropped. Were all of her former companions in this damn city? 

“Bodhan? What in the name of the Maker are you doing here?”

Realization hit her as she remembered the merchant’s words from weeks ago -- _”She has an estate in High Town, but they aren't going to let you in”_ \-- that the entire time she’d spent wandering Kirkwall looking for Mathilda, all she would have had to do was knock on the damned door. 

“Ah, what a shame, dear Warden. You seem to be short a present now, no?”

* * *

Zevran watched as Aurelia haggled with the ship captain. Her face was set and stern, her arms crossed. He could not help but smile as he tried to imagine her words and what persuasive techniques she was engaging to try and secure them passage on the next ship back to Denerim. Glancing away, he turned back to Alistair. 

“Did you say something, my liege?”

Alistair elbowed him in the arm. “I asked if something was going on with you two. You’ve been bickering much more than normal. I thought you’d be so lovey dovey it’d be nauseating.”

Sighing, Zevran looked back at Aurelia who was now waving her arms in frustration. He felt much the same when he thought of the state of their relationship now. 

“I asked her to marry me.”

For almost an entire minute, they stood in silence, Zevran watching Aurelia and Alistair watching Zevran. 

“Excuse me. I think I temporarily developed hallucinations. Can you answer that question one more time?”

“I asked our dear warden to marry me,” Zevran repeated, turning back to Alistair.

He still looked dumbfounded but was quicker in his response time now that it had sunk in. “And she said…?”

“That it was all very sudden and then Leliana interrupted and I asked again and she said she could not possibly consider marriage before she found a cure, how it would not be fair to me, and so on and so forth and here we are,” Zevran trailed off, his hand moving up to run through his hair in exasperation. 

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair sighed, turning to look across the dock at his friend. “If she isn’t the most stubborn woman in all of Thedas.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Zevran said sullenly. 

“Well, don’t admit defeat yet,” Alistair urged. “You two might as well be married. I’m sure she’ll come around.”

The assassin responded only with an unconvinced grumble and Alistair sighed. 

“I mean it,” he blazed on. “I’ve still got to learn about these noble families, but one thing I’ve come to find out is that marriage isn’t exactly something they associate with romantic love. Not to mention, she’s a Grey Warden. Marriage and family life aren’t just not a part of the job description, but it’s also highly discouraged. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s scared.”

His first inclination was to scoff. Zevran could count the times on one hand he had actually seen the Warden scared. He had seen her take on ogres, dragon, armies, and not once had she flinched. It was something he loved most about her – love, that word still felt so foreign, even in his mind – the fact that even in the face of death, she would not bow. She had not been afraid even as she laid dying in that alley in Antiva City. 

The longer Zevran thought about it, however, the more he realized that Alistair was probably right. She may be the fiercest woman he knew, but even she was not without complex emotions. 

As Aurelia turned from the captain, a satisfied smirk on her lips, Alistair placed a hand on Zevran’s shoulder. 

“Just talk to her. You’ve got all the way back to Denerim.”

* * *

It was a copper braided ring, with milky stones that Mathilda could not recognize. She doubted it was worth very much. As she slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand, she only felt a small rush to her head, wondering idly if it helped with her mana reserves. 

Even though it would not fetch much if sold, Mathilda still smiled at the ring. She imagined everything that it had witnessed, from the owner who had it before it was taken by the bandit – perhaps a neighbor of her's or a shop keeper from town – to being upon the hand of the Hero of Ferelden as she slayed the archdemon. She wondered still what it would bare witness to on her own hand, what she herself would add to its story. 

“Secret admirer?” 

She jumped slightly at the familiar, gravely tone. She had not even heard Fenris enter her study let alone noticed as he came up behind her to see what she was eying so closely. 

“A parting gift, I think,” Mathilda answered, outstretching her hand for him to see. “From Aurelia. She left it this morning.” 

“Then she is bound for Denerim,” Fenris commented lightly as he eyed the simple band on her finger. 

“Probably as we speak,” Mathilda said with a small sigh. 

When her eyes rose, she realized how close they were to each other and her breath caught briefly as he met her gaze. A small fire began to rise in her chest, a feeling of determination. Her mind briefly wondered if the ring had anything to do with this new sense of confidence, but she could not wonder long as her mouth spoke before she could control it. 

“Fenris, I’ve been meaning to talk with you.”


	11. I Am Yours

She was beginning to wonder if he regretted his proposal. He had not mentioned it again since that night a whole week ago. In fact, they had said little to each other since that night outside of conversations with other people included. The talking they did do had only turned into arguing. Zevran had spent much of the past few days pointing out all the things about her that annoyed him. 

His constant nagging of her faults made her consider the thought that maybe he was not serious about marriage, after all. Maybe it had simply been a response to the trauma they’d recently experienced. Maybe it was just a knee jerk reaction to realizing she was alive. 

Many who knew them both still remarked with awe that they even were together after seven years. Two of the most commitment phobic people in Thedas miraculously still devoted to one another when many emotionally healthy people barely made it a year into marriage without wanting to kill each other. That was why they worked, however, or at least Aurelia had thought. Neither desired a traditional life of settling down in a physical home and creating a family. Both wanted nothing more than a life of excitement and risks. It had been enough. 

Until now.

Her mouth twisted to the side as she pondered the possibilities. She watched him across their cabin. She had a book open in her lap as she sat on the bunk they were supposed to be sharing, but even their journey across the Waking Sea had been mostly silent. He was stretched out in a hammock, swaying softly with the motions of the ship. His arms were crossed behind his head and his eyes were closed as he appeared to be dozing. All he wore was a pair of loose trousers that rode low on his hips and Aurelia wanted to cuss at him for being such a tease. 

Her fingers itched to trace the muscles in his chest, to travel downwards across his hips. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. This had been the longest they had abstained while together since the Blight. A sinking feeling in her stomach wondered if this was it, the end of the road for them.

_Everyone you love will leave,_ she reminded herself for what was not the first time. Her fingers left the cover of her book, letting it fall into her lap, as they moved almost instinctively to pull the amulet from around her neck. 

She turned it over to gaze into the mirrored backing. The encouraging smile made the ache in her heart subside less, but it did not ease it entirely. It never did. 

“Will you go with me?” she asked without thinking. When she looked up, she was surprised to see Zevran’s eyes not only were open but watching her. His gaze was soft, a small, sad smile playing on his lips as he watched her tuck the amulet back into her shirt. 

“Where?” he asked, yawning and stretching out his arms. He did not mention her brief moment of sadness, even though Aurelia knew he had seen it. He never did. “Is it time for dinner already?”

“To the West,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. Her fingers clenched around her knee as she waited for an answer, preparing herself for one she would not want to hear. “We—we haven’t discussed it and I know I haven’t asked you but—”

“You don’t need to ask me, my love,” Zevran interrupted her. He swung his legs out of the hammock and was at her side before she could respond. His fingers laced themselves through her fidgeting ones and he squeezed. His other hand caressed her cheek and forced her to look into his face. “You are crazy to think I would part from your side again, even if you try to banish me.”

She shut her eyes, not able to look into his. Her own emotions were overwhelming enough without watching his flash across his face. She covered his hand on her cheek with hers and leaned into the touch. 

His hand in hers and his fingers softly caressing her cheek flooded her with relief, but also guilt. He had returned to her over and over. He had followed her across Ferelden and then Thedas. Even when conflicted about his own feelings and obviously scared of their depth, he had never given her reason to not trust that he would always be there by her side. How could she deny him? 

Her thoughts were interrupted as his lips gently moved against hers. His hand moved to the base of her neck, gripping her hair to pull her mouth tighter against his own. His kiss was soft at first, but turned insistent. His teeth tugged at her lower lip and she let out a sigh. She could hear him mumble her name against her lips before his tongue flicked hers. 

Her hands moved of their own accord. She worried if she did not move quickly, he would pull away and go back to ignoring her. Running her nails down his chest, she was rewarded with a muffled groan. As her fingers neared the top of his pants, she grazed her nails along the waistband. He began to pull away from their kiss, but Aurelia was quicker and undid the ties of his pants so she could reach under the fabric and take a hold of him. 

“Lia,” he said, breathless, his mouth moving to her neck, tugging at the sensitive skin with his teeth. She hissed, knowing he would leave a mark, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. He was already stiff in her hand as she moved her fingers from his tip to the base, squeezing gently. 

His hands tugged at her shirt and he forced her to release him long enough so he could pull it over her head. He had her stays off just as quickly and before Aurelia could take him in hand once more, he had flipped her onto her back on the small bed. The book she had been reading fell to the ground. 

She reached for him as he settled between her legs, but he swatted her hands away and made quick work of her breeches and small clothes. Once they were off, he spread her legs once more. He held one up over his shoulder, placing kisses along her calf and then up her thigh. Her breath hitched as his hand trailed up the thigh of her other leg, inching closer to her heat. 

Squirming as his fingers every so lightly grazed through her dark curls, dipping in and out of her folds teasingly, she arched her hips towards his hand trying to achieve more friction, but he pulled away when she came close. She groaned in frustration. 

“Zevran,” she keened. 

He kneeled between her, one of her legs still on his shoulder and he pushed her other thigh further into the mattress, spreading her wide before him. His palm hovering over her, he asked, “Would you like me to touch you, my darling?”

“Yes,” she said in a gasp. “Please!”

“So impatient yet still so polite,” he teased. He moved one finger slowly from her clit down to her entrance and back again. His eyes turned dark with lust as he felt how wet she was already. He circled her bud with his thumb and she purred more. “Everyone on this ship is going to hate us, Aurelia. I want them all to hear your screams.”

His words shot a hot spear of desire to her core and she barely could keep her eyes open from the pleasure, especially as he sank two fingers inside her. Her hands grasped at the bed, curling her fingers around the pillow behind her head as she let out a loud gasp. Her mouth seemed to speak of its own volition as he pumped his fingers expertly in and out of her. 

“Sweet Maker, yes. Oh, right there. Yes!”

Her moans and breathing only got louder as his thumb arched up to play with her clit as he continued to finger her. Her toes curled and her leg pressed hard into his shoulder as she felt the pressure building inside her. She turned her face to the side to bite down on the pillow, but his free hand quickly reached up and turned her face back to him. 

“No, Lia,” he said, his voice heavy. Aurelia opened her eyes to stare at him as she whimpered. “Let me hear you.”

The pace of his fingers quickened and she knew she was close to the edge. 

“Don’t—don’t stop, please, Zevran. Please,” she begged. 

He pushed her leg from his shoulder and removed his thumb from her clit. She began to protest, but when his mouth replaced it, it was only a matter of seconds before she came, a loud animalistic yell echoing across their cabin. Her hands gripped his head as she rode out her pleasure. 

As she lay breathless and gasping for air, her arms sprawled above her head, Zevran traced his way up her body, leaving a trail of bites and tasted skin in his wake. He paused briefly to lavish her breasts with kisses and pinches, making her buck her hips against him, but he did not quicken his pace even as she reached between them to force his pants down his hips. 

“Off,” she ordered. “Now.”

He chuckled lightly and sat back up to do as she commanded. “As you wish, my darling warden.”

She swallowed hard as she watched him, her eyes watching eagerly as his erection sprang free from its confines. Her heart rate had calmed slightly, but it still beat rapidly against her chest. She had only just come, but she felt herself pulsating again at the thought of having him inside of her. She reached a hand up to press against his chest and it was a relief to find that his heart was also pounding. 

Zevran took her hand from his chest and kissed the inside of her wrist. Lacing their fingers together once more, he sank down onto her, resting their hands above her head. His other hand guided his cock to her entrance, letting his tip slide up and down her folds torturously. 

“Tell me you are mine,” he whispered into her ear as he continued to test her patience. 

“Zevran,” she pleaded. 

“Tell me.”

“I am yours,” she insisted, her free hand moving down to his ass, gripping him firmly and trying to coax him to her. “Now, take me already.”

He did not need any more persuading. He pushed inside of her in one quick thrust. He set a slow, languid pace that made her buck back against him every time her pulled his hips back. He let go of her hands to move both of his to her hips, keeping her still beneath him as he lazily moved in and out of her. 

Within minutes she was once more breathless with want and impatience. The slow roll of his hips and the way he grinded his pelvis bone against her sensitive nub each time he met her was causing an incoherent jumble of words to leave her mouth. 

“More,” she groaned, nails digging into his ass. “Oh, Zevran, please.”

His hips quickened their pace and his cock thrust into her with a force that made her gasp. Leaning back on his knees, he adjusted the angle of her hips and slammed into her again. 

“Like this?” he asked as he began pounding her ruthlessly. Her hands found his arms and she gripped them to try to hold on to reality. 

“Yes,” she practically yelled. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

His response was somewhere between a growl and a moan. His eyes were glazed over with desire and his hands were going to leave bruises tomorrow as he gripped her hips, possessively. His gaze met hers and the burning need inside her only intensified. His name left her lips, over and over, as he claimed her. 

“That’s it,” he said, eagerly. “Scream my name.”

Her hands left his arm, one grasping at her left breast as the other reached between her legs to help push her over the edge. He really did growl this time as his strokes slowed to a rhythm of long and hard thrusts. His eyes followed her hands and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Aurelia knew he enjoyed watching her pleasure herself, and his intense eyes only made her enjoy it more as she caressed her clit. 

His hand moved one of her legs back up onto his shoulder and she let out a cry at the deeper angle he was achieving. He was hitting that spot insider of her, the one he knew would make her want to pass out from pleasure. She didn’t know whether to hate him for it or worship him. Her cries reached an intense crescendo as she came. He had to steady himself and slow for a moment as her hips pushed against him with such force that she threatened to push him right off the bed. 

He did not give her anytime to recover as she lay shaking on the mattress, her mouth still crying out his name. Dropping her leg, he moved to hover over her, a hand on either side of her head. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he continued to move inside her, his eyes never tearing away from her face. 

When she finally regained control of her breathing, she opened her eyes and felt her heart instantly clench as she looked up into his face. He stared at her with such tenderness, such _love_. It was the way he always looked at her in their most intimate moments, whether they were sharing an inside joke amongst companions or he was making love to her. She had never put that word together with that look until now and the realization made her shutter.

Her hands reached up to hold his face. Her thumbs caressed his cheeks. She needed to see him lose control, needed to see the expression on his face. 

“Release inside me,” she urged. “I need to feel you.” 

His eyes shut as he began to pant. She twitched her hips up to meet his and tightened her muscles around him. 

“My love,” he breathed. “Aurelia.”

A yell left his lips as he emptied himself into her. Her hands moved down to his neck and chest, one tangling in his hair and the other finding his heart. 

A moment later, he collapsed upon her and whispered softly, “I love you.”

“I know,” she responded, a lazy smile playing on her lips as her hands smoothed down his back. 

After a few minutes, he pulled himself out of her and came to lay beside her, facing her as they squeezed into the small bed. His eyes were shut as he let one hand sprawl over her hip. Her fingers, meanwhile traced the lines of his body: the tattoos on his face and back, the muscles on his chest, the scars that splattered across his chin. She knew every inch of him. The idea of being without him humbled her. 

“I won’t make a good wife,” she said softly, not certain if he would hear her or not.

“That’s debatable,” he murmured, not bothering to open his eyes. “I think many men and women in Thedas already envy me for capturing such a sex goddess.”

She pinched his side and was rewarded with the slightest of smirks. 

“I can’t bare you children,” she reminded, the taint never far from her mind.

“Maybe we have just not been trying hard enough,” he teased again. 

“If there isn’t a cure, I may not—”

“Then we will make the most of what time we have, yes?”

He opened his eyes then, his playful smirk gone and replaced with a reassuring smile. 

“I am not going anywhere, Lia,” he said seriously. “Married or not, it matters little. You are stuck with me.”

They were quiet for a moment as his hand reached up to move the hair back from her face. She stared at him in awe, wondering how it was she had gotten so lucky. 

“Ask me again,” she said after a time.

Letting out an exasperated noise, he rolled over onto his back and placed an arm over his eyes. “Do not jest with me, Aurelia.”

“I’m not jesting!” she insisted, sitting up to press a hand against his chest. “Ask me again.”

He refused to respond and Aurelia let out a huff. Sitting up further, she swung her leg over his hips and settled herself over him. 

“I said,” she growled, moving her hips forward and back. “Ask. Me. Again.”

A small sigh of pleasure or resignation – Aurelia couldn’t tell which -- left him as his hands moved to her thighs. He finally opened his eyes to stare up at her. 

“Will you marry me, Aurelia?”

She grinned at him and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Yes,” she whispered as she pulled away. 

By the time they reached Denerim, the entire crew watched them go with a mixture of relief and amazement.

* * *

_Dear brother,_

_Alistair passed along your regards when I saw him in Kirkwall. By the time this letter reaches you, we shall be safely returned home to Ferelden and on our way to Highever.._

_You need not worry so much. Really, it is only going to give you premature wrinkles and lessen your reputation as the best looking Teyrn in Ferelden. Oh, wait…_

_In other news, I know you and the daughter of Bann-what’s-his-name from Dragonmount have been knee deep in wedding preparations and all the boring negotiations that come along with it, but I was hoping you may let me beat you to the alter? I can’t imagine getting married anywhere else. I promise it will be a small affair with only my closest friends, but I cannot promise it will be quiet._

_I look forward to receiving your congratulations in person!_

_Your loving sister,_

_Aurelia_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone, for reading! This fic was intended just to be a "fix-it" story after I encountered the DAII Zevran dialog bug, but took on a life of its own. Did anyone else ever realize how many of the Warden's companions are all in Kirkwall in the same act? Now I think I may be forced to go back and write a few more stories for these love birds. Stay tuned!
> 
> This was my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it's awful.
> 
> Thanks again, and keep an eye out for more coming soon!


End file.
